Elena's Dispatches From The Field
by Mako Headrush
Summary: Inspired a bit by Bridget Jones' Diary. I've been wanting to write something from Elena's POV, so here it is. Elena's first-person dispatches from the field, starting from her first assignment. Join Elena as she bumbles her way through her early days as a rookie, to becoming a more seasoned and polished Turk, while dealing with repercussions of crushing on her boss.
1. Mythril Mine

**Summary: Inspired a bit by Bridget Jones' Diary. I've been wanting to write something from Elena's POV, and here it is, in missive format. Elena's first-person dispatches from the field, starting from her reporting for her first assignment as a Turk.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own FF, wish I did. This is written for fun and not profit.**

* * *

_8 August, 11:51 a.m., en route to Mythril Mine_

Have just reported for first assignment as a Turk, filling in for Reno as he is indisposed, having had ass kicked by Cloud/AVALANCHE. Giddy! No, no, no - _not_ giddy that Reno is hurt. That would be insensitive. Giddy over first assignment, however, which is to tail Cloud et al, AVALANCHE last seen in vicinity of Mythril Mine. Trying my best not to act like some over eager bubble-headed twit. Am a professional, am a Turk, and will present self as such.

* * *

_8 August, 12:45 p.m., Mythril Mine Proper_

Have finally met Cloud and others face to face, gave them stern warning what would befall them after what they did to poor Reno. Vile bunch, and Cloud is self-righteous prick. Man with gun-arm bellowing nonsense, could not understand one word. The Ancient was with them, looking amused by said bellowing. Other female – the bartender, Tifa? – looked less than amused, rolling eyes at Gun Arm. Really, sounds as if he is yelling while chewing on mouthful of mashed potatoes. Irritating! Would reach limit break quickly if I was forced to endure all that yammering about 'saving the planet.' Saving from what? Aggggh. Am done here, sending report to Tseng and returning to HQ.

Note to self – specimen Red XIII – what _is_ he? Lion, dog, cat – all of the above? Lion technically is a cat, so would be the same. Possibly a Cuahl? Would ask Hojo to clarify, but find him too creepy. Will ask Tseng instead. Lovely, dreamy Tseng. Must stop crushing on boss! Unprofessional of me. Cannot help but admire him, though. His calm, sexy voice, authoritative yet not asshole-ish. Also, he is _literally_ the only one who can get Reno to shut up with just a single, withering glance.

* * *

_8 August, 4:13 p.m., ShinRa Headquarters_

Have returned to office after harrowing helicopter ride. Miss Reno, who is much better pilot than Rude. Like Rude just fine, but near-silence during entire flight is just horrid. Gods, what am I saying? That I miss Reno's bantering?

Gah. Yes, yes, I do. Rude says so little that I feel forced to banter on aimlessly about random and uninteresting topics, ranging from average yearly snowfall at Icicle Inn, to best place for sushi in Lower Midgar.

Rude says he does not like sushi. Finds idea of raw fish repulsive. Take offense at this, as sushi is favorite dish. Feels like attack on my character. But, of course it is not. Am just being silly.

Oh, we're landing. Thank _all_ the gods, even Leviathan. Wonder how Reno is doing? Perhaps will visit him in hospital later. I like Reno, really do, despite his insistence on calling me 'rookie'.


	2. Midgar General Hospital

_9 August 10:00 a.m., Midgar General Hospital_

* * *

Tseng, Rude, and myself going to visit Reno in hospital. He will be released next week for a return to light duty. Tseng coming up with random tasks for Reno to complete in office - organizing file cabinets, general tidying, i.e., odd jobs that Reno will piss and moan about then try to pass off on someone else. Tidying the office not Reno's forte. I mean, one just has to look at Reno's desk to realize that! Entire surface of desk is littered with wrappers from Fatty's Fish and Chips (with convenient locations in Sectors 6 and 8 - Sector 7 location, obviously, no longer there following the plate drop). Reflect on injustice of Reno's daily consumption of deep-fried fish and chips, while he maintains rail-thin figure with zero effort. Is unfair! Though I do keep self in shape because required to do so for job, also want to avoid potential embarrassment of having to approach supervisor requesting new uniform in bigger size.

Realize, with bit of horror, that Tseng knows my measurements. Which he would, as he needed them to order my suit from tailor. But, agh! HE HAS MY BRA SIZE. Perhaps written down, somewhere in office! Hope not on random slip of paper on his desk. Or, worse yet, scrawled on desk blotter where all can see, including cleaning staff at night. Horrified by prospect, vow to check Tseng's desk next time am in there, perhaps go-over it with liquid paper if is actually written down somewhere. No. Easier to put desk blotter or calendar in shredder, or set fire to entire lot. Do not want bra size made public!

Reno is looking well considering how badly he'd been cut by Cloud's sword. Thing was huge, and Tseng believes it is actually the Buster Sword that once belonged to Angeal Hewley. Tseng curious as to how/when Cloud got hold of such a weapon, but says he 'has his suspicions' and said nothing further on the subject. Really, Reno could have bloody well _died (_disliking Cloud even more, now), though in typical Reno manner he shrugs it off, then irritably looks about for cigarettes. Is reminded by Tseng that smoking in hospital not allowed in patient rooms, as is bad idea to have flame near all this oxygen. Reno protests, saying 'the fucking _air_ is full of oxygen, yo' (he has a point, sort of), to which Tseng calmly replies about pressurized gases being flammable. Then Reno starts laughing like twelve-year old asking Rude if he has ever lit his own farts. This actually gets a chuckle from Rude which is a rare thing indeed.

Sigh. Really, what have I gotten myself into? All this testosterone and humor on level of twelve-year-old boys. It's all burps and fart jokes with these two. Speaking of testosterone...eyes flit over surreptitiously to sexy Wutaian boss, heartlessly ignoring nearly-slain co-worker stuck in hospital bed with all manner of tubes and wires stuck in him. No, no, must purge mind of impure thoughts involving said boss in various states of undress, perhaps meditating or doing yoga (know that he does both, in his office, though fully clothed -drat.) Elena, pull self together! You are vibrant, professional woman. Though currently single, you are calm, poised, and not to be ruled by raging hormones.

_Shit_. Tseng has caught self staring at him. Pretend to be intently studying spot on wall just above his head, then open mouth to speak. Naturally nothing but nonsense comes tumbling out, but I recover well from flub by crafting incessant babbling into clever inquiry about The Sword (at which Reno winces, clutching theatrically at his bandaged chest that was, truly, nearly cleaved in two by same weapon), leading to Serious Discussion. Success! Am finally being taken seriously, as aforementioned Serious Discussion ensues between Tseng and Rude regarding dastardly things done/found in labs of Shinra Mansion basement, and death of Zack Fair (sad, really, hearing recounting of that, and Tseng's order to Reno and Rude to capture Zack and Cloud alive, when of course that did not happen). Reno chimes in and offers that Cloud (once he figured out it _was_ Cloud) seemed different than years past, as if he was _not_ Cloud but someone else quite familiar though cannot quite put his finger on it. Think Reno's poor brain is addled from painkillers.

"Well, how many years had it been?" I inquire. All heads turn to look at me, curiously. "Since you'd last seen Cloud, I mean, Reno. Surely he would be different now, years later, than he was during his formative years as a cadet? He's an adult now, back then he was a teen."

Reno shakes his head, seeming very firm, very certain. "No," he insists. "That's not what I mean. This is more than just some kid maturing into an adult. He just...carried himself differently then, compared to what he's like now. The way he walks, talks, mannerisms...hand gestures...just...it's different, okay? Cloud was never _that_ cocky back when he was trying to get into SOLDIER. He was a quiet kid with a chip on his shoulder." Reno sighs, looking sad. So sad I nearly want to hug him, but realize he is still wounded, so that would be bad idea. Instead, just grasp his hand in motherly, comforting fashion (hope I do not appear motherly or matronly though, esp. not in front of Tseng. Oh, stop, Elena! Stahhhhp) and murmur, "people do change, Reno." Hope I do not sound condescending or trite.

But no, Reno smiles, squeezes my hand back. "Thanks, Laney," he says softly. Ooh! Do not care for that nickname either, but is better than being called 'Rookie.' I think…. Soon see Reno's eyes go half-lidded then roll back in his head, and snoring begins. Oh, how lovely. Drooling on himself, now. Poor thing, though. He's been through a lot the past few days. Damn that Cloud Strife! And Gun-Arm man, and bartender girl, and the Ancient, and….Specimen Red XIII, whatever HE is. At least, assume Red XIII is in fact male. Come to think of it, am not sure. Tseng shared with me that Hojo had intended to breed Red with Aerith. At first thought it was horrible joke and laughed, then realized Tseng was _serious_, so of course apologized. He seems protective of her, though suppose I would be too if someone were trying to breed a female ancient with….well, with whatever Red XIII is. I may never find out.

Reno is in drug-addled happy sleep, so we three quietly slip out to let him get his rest. Tseng beckons me over, clandestine-like, and murmurs something about going to the Shinra Mansion at Nibelheim. Says he wants me to know all of the company secrets….from the mundane, to the profane. Not sure what is meant by that, but have odd, sick, feeling in pit of stomach now.

Am feeling a bit apprehensive now, but cannot do anything about that. We are setting out tomorrow, direct flight from Midgar to Nibelheim, Tseng piloting. Rude staying behind to see to things in the office, and look after Reno.

I WILL NOT STARE AT TSENG, I WILL NOT STARE AT TSENG, I WILL NOT -

Feh. Who the hell am I kidding? I won't be able to help but stare! Oooh, idea! Will get dark glasses in manner of Rude's, and wear them everywhere. Tseng won't be able to see that I'm staring. Plan is brilliant! Will ask Rude if he has one spare pair that he might lend me temporarily. Then, can stare at Tseng all I want, and nobody will be the wiser. Genius idea!

But tomorrow, Nibelheim! First mission with Tseng! Feels almost like first date, but of course is work, and must be taken seriously. Not as if I can dress up whilst in Turk uniform, which is a shame. But, chance to be alone with him in the chopper! Envisioning deep, connective conversation wherein we finish each other's thoughts and sentences and start talking at the same time, resulting in endless cycle of 'you go first' – 'no, _you_ first!"

Agh! Am mature, professional woman, and will behave as such – oh, shit. Cellular is ringing. Rummage for it, and find it is, of course, a personal call from friend Mick. Big gay Mick, who gives dating advice, solicited or not (usually _not_), and is ready to do so right now. Right right RIGHT now. Realize too late, that phone is on speaker, and lovely Mick bellows for all to hear, "So, Elena, did you shag the boss yet?" Followed by raucous laughter, and myself fuming.

"Oh do shut up!" I reply, indignant, then try to play it off as a wrong number. "And never call this number again!" I end the call, feeling triumphant, though realize that Tseng is looking at me oddly.

"Yes?" I say brightly, trying to recover what is left of dignity (not much, apparently).

"Just….it was rather peculiar that a wrong number caller would ask for you by name, hmm?"

The mobile phone issue is ignored while I try to collect the rest of injured pride. "Indeed, it was peculiar," I reply with a bit of a haughty air. Tseng is biting his lip. He's biting his lip. No, no, he's laughing at me! Bastard! Am sure he means well, though. Doesn't he?

Must get to bed early tonight, and pack bag for Nibelheim trip. No idea what to bring. Turk uniforms, obviously, and all manner of firearms. Well, I shall worry about that later. For now, will enjoy close proximity of Tseng. Mmmm. He smells exotic, like _danger_. Like jasmine at midnight. No – too girly. Meh, he smells like a man, okay! And some lovely oils and spices.


End file.
